


Doll House

by ipanicdaily



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gore, Horror, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipanicdaily/pseuds/ipanicdaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard wakes up in an eerie room, no clue where he is or how he got there. A mysterious voice tells him that he is in a doll house, as are all of his friends. With no idea how big the ‘house’ is, or what condition anyone is in, Gerard has two hours to find each person, complete a task without breaking the rules he doesn’t even know, or they will all suffocate on a poisonous gas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Doll House

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of my original Doll House story which can be found on my lj (same name). Loosely inspired by the second Saw movie.

**Chapter One: Welcome to the Doll House**

Pain. All that crowded Gerard’s mind as he not-so-pleasantly gained consciousness was how this throbbing-pulsing ache coated every inch of his body; the most being in the back of his head. He groaned low in his throat, his own pathetic voice startling him some as it echoed in his ears. Gerard hadn’t felt this shitty in a while. Not since the drugs and alcohol and hours spent bent over _something_ , throwing his guts up to accompany that day’s hangover. 

Those days were long gone though; parts of Gerard’s past that he didn’t exactly regret, because they made him who he was today, but parts that he didn’t ever want to live again. He didn’t remember taking anything – and Gerard had been more than careful in avoiding alcohol because he knew he was an alcoholic, so how he became so pained and overall shitty-feeling was beyond him.

Truthfully, the last thing Gerard remembered was playing a show in…well, the city wasn’t that important. It changed most every day and only mattered when he was home or when he wanted to thank the crowd for coming. And then someone, usually Ray, told him where they were right before the show so he could remember long enough to do so. 

Gerard remembered the show; the screaming crowd, packed into every inch of space they could find because their fans were _fucking awesome_ like that. He remembered the bright, flashing lights, and sweating like crazy from moving all across the stage because staying still was just boring. He remembered Frank coming over to him to make-out after scaling Bob’s drums, since the kids seemed to love that; and Gerard remembered going off stage to wait before running back on for a three-song encore like always. 

After that , there was just…nothing. Gerard’s mind stopped somewhere during the encore, his head in too much pain to pinpoint the exact moment, and everything else was darkness. Like nothing at all was there to begin with. Nothing but pain. 

Groaning again, Gerard managed to get his eyes to open; the lids sticking for a moment, and vision fuzzy until he blinked a few times to clear it. What Gerard was faced with perplexed him. This most definitely wasn’t the venue. Or anything remotely close, actually. Honestly, Gerard couldn’t exactly place where he was. 

He was seated at a table, slumped in an uncomfortable chair because his previously unconscious state kept him from having proper posture. Not that he sat straight most of the time anyway. On the table was a variety of china – plates, tea cups, saucers, and a teapot in the center – arranged in personal settings all around. 

There were four other chairs at the table as well. Three of the four chairs had dolls seated in them and the last, directly across from Gerard, was empty. To his left was what appeared to be a patchwork, handmade type of doll that, when Gerard reached an unsteady hand out to pick it up, flopped around without having the support of the chair to keep it upright. 

Beside the floppy doll was a rather creepy doll that Gerard almost instantly associated with the practice of voodoo. It was similar in appearance to the floppy one, only it had button eyes (well, _eye_ , really, since one was missing) and pins sticking out from its cloth body. The voodoo doll wore a hand-stitched grin that made Gerard involuntarily shiver and move his eyes to his right, where the final doll was seated on a stack of old books so it could ‘see’ over the table. 

It was probably the creepiest at the table simply because it was porcelain, and porcelain dolls freaked Gerard out. It had glass blue eyes which stared at the wall opposite it, and had dirty blond hair formed in tight ringlets hanging down all around its head. Gerard frowned at the doll and went back to looking at the empty wooden chair on the other side of the table, which was, for whatever reason, the most troubling of all to him. 

“The fuck,” he muttered to himself; voice cracked from having not been used in who knows how long. His mouth was dry and plagued with the stale taste of whatever he last consumed – no doubt coffee – since he hadn’t been able to brush his teeth clean of it. 

Still feeling too heavy to move, Gerard took the chance to observe the rest of the room he had found himself in. On a far wall there was a window; bars over the outside to prevent anything from passing through it as though it was a jail. The walls were covered in a fading wall paper with a design Gerard guessed was popular sometime in the eighteenth century. Where it was ripping and falling down, Gerard could just barely make out a pale colored wall beneath. The floor was covered in a standard blue rug; nothing soft and fancy, or special in any particular way. There were a few dark patches, stains that were either neglected or wouldn’t come out that nearly blackened the carpet. 

As far as furniture, there wasn’t much beside the table and chairs in the center where he was. There was a bookshelf lined in thick books too worn and covered in dust for Gerard to begin to make out what their context was. Not that he particularly cared, either. The last thing on his mind at the moment was reading. 

The only other thing in the room was a framed poster of the band on the wall which made Gerard groan more, because nothing was more obnoxious than overly obsessive fans. Gerard didn’t understand it; why people wanted to sleep with them or why people wanted their dirty belongings or any other strange, unnatural behavior. They – Gerard, Frank, Ray, Bob, and Mikey – were simply five guys who made music together. 

Yet some of their fans acted as though they were gods. 

When Gerard moved his chair back, deciding he was done with whatever joke he was a part of, he was startled right back down by a sudden voice filling the room. “I see you’re awake at last, Gerard,” it said; tone light and amused. Gerard looked frantically around for the source, more than disturbed by the fact that there was absolutely _no one_ in sight. 

“Don’t worry,” the voice continued, too masked for Gerard to decipher a gender or anything, “You can’t see me.” It absolutely sounded amused, making Gerard rather mad. “You don’t need to see me, because you don’t need to know who I am. Not yet, at least. But I assure you; we have met plenty of times before.” 

Cocking his head back, Gerard spotted a round speaker in the middle of the ceiling that he recognized from his high school days. That’s where the voice was coming from.

“The fuck’s going on?!” Gerard demanded angrily. 

“That’s no way for you to talk to your master,” came the disappointed reply.

Gerard nearly gagged, choking out “Master?!” unbelievingly. He didn’t belong to anyone. He never has, and he most certainly never will. 

“Don’t you wonder where you are?” It wasn’t an answer, but before Gerard could say anything else, the voice went on. “You, Gerard, are in my toy; a life-size, handmade, specially crafted, one-of-a-kind, doll house.” The pride behind the words made Gerard nauseous. “Really, you should feel honored to be here. Not too many people are welcome.” 

“’Honored’ is far from what I feel right now,” Gerard answered rudely but truthfully. A moment later, a sharp, unexpected shock shot through him, sending Gerard crashing to the floor; hands flying up to his neck where the wave generated.

Instead of his pale, smooth skin, though, Gerard’s fingers collided with a ring of metal locked around his neck that he’d failed to notice earlier. The collar was tight, but no so much that it cut off his ability to breathe. It was just loose enough to wiggle a little – a metal chocker or close fitting necklace, to be more accurate. 

“I don’t appreciate rudeness,” he was informed in a far less light voice. This time it was dark and heavy. “You are in my control now, Gerard, and you will play my game by my rules or you’ll pay the consequences.” 

Recovering, Gerard grabbed a hold of his chair to help him back up, still feeling the lingering effects of the shock. “What…fuckin’ game?” he asked, swallowing and licking his dry lips over.

“A little game I designed to see just how loyal you truly are to those who care about you,” came his answer a moment later. “See, I think you take for granted those who love and care about you. Unless it’s convenient for you, you couldn’t care less about those who actually love you.” 

Confused, Gerard pushed his hair aside and tipped his head back again to look at the speaker. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There was a faint scoffing noise that Gerard didn’t know if it was real, or just his mind. “I don’t know who you are, but if you just let me go, I’ll forget this happened and tell no one.”

“If you really want to go, you can.” For a moment, Gerard was relieved, relaxing some. But then the voice continued, nearly paralyzing Gerard entirely. “If you don’t want to see your friends again.”

When he could speak, Gerard demanded, “What’d you do with them?!” because no one was allowed to mess with his friends – his family – and get away with it. 

“That’s part of the game, Gerard.” A laugh. “Your friends, your bandmates, lie somewhere in my doll house. You must find them and complete a small task to save each one before time runs out.” 

“Time?”

“You can’t take your sweet time trying to find everyone.” Gerard’s stomach dropped. “You have two hours, starting the moment you walk out the door, to find each of your friends.”

He didn’t want to, but Gerard asked hesitantly, “And if I don’t?” 

“You all suffocate on carbon monoxide.” It was blunt and troubling, but Gerard found a sliver of comfort in the words. At least everyone was still alive. For now. “And if you break any rules, you’ll receive another shock. Each mistake will raise the level. When you reach level five, you’ll basically cook alive.” 

Shivering some more, one hand subconsciously coming up to his neck, Gerard inquired, “What are the rules?” so he could spare himself. 

“If I told you, what fun would that be?” and the laughter that followed caused Gerard to flinch. It was eerie, disturbing, and even vaguely familiar. Though creepy laughs all sounded the same. They’re _creepy_.

“Complete each task, follow the rules, and find everyone within two hours, and I’ll let you go. Fail to do so, and you will remain forever inside these walls.” Gerard swallowed hard. “Good luck, Gerard. I hope you’re willing to suffer to save those you claim to love.”

And the voice disappeared, a soft clicking noise echoing throughout the space, and Gerard took a deep breath as he shakily lifted himself to his feet. He was desperate and afraid to step outside the door, but he had to find the others. He needed to make sure that they were okay, and get them out of this twisted nightmare. 

Exhaling, Gerard took hold of the handle and turned it until it popped open; chest tightening as he forced himself outside.


	2. Raggedy Frankie

**Chapter Two: Raggedy Frankie**

The ‘house’ in general was overall unsettling. When Gerard stepped outside the room he’d awoken in, he was met with a long stretch of hallway to his left and to his right; entirely lined with doors. The floor was lined in the same boring blue carpet, and the ceiling covered in the same basic tiles with a light spaced every couple of doors. 

Gerard bit the corner of his lip in thought, deciding which way, exactly, he should go. All he could see were doors, and his time was rather limited. To his left, however, Gerard thought he could just make out a dip in the floor that resembled stairs leading to a bottom level. Or levels. He wasn’t really sure. 

But Gerard wouldn’t have been placed in the center of all those rooms without _someone_ else being up there too, right? 

Maybe fifty percent confident that they were indeed stairs off to his left, Gerard pivoted slightly to the right to begin down that hallway; wincing at the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath him. The noises the house gave made him think that the floor was going to give out, sending him crashing down. Though that seemed highly unlikely. 

When Gerard came upon the first of many doors, he momentarily paused with hesitation, nervous and afraid of what, or who, may be on the other side. Part of him wanted to turn and run, to save himself from any potential horrors; but the more rational one knew that he needed to find the others. His rational side knew that there probably was no escape regardless of his actions, because whoever was behind this was certainly disturbed, and that Gerard would rather die with all his friends, his family, than give up and go out on his own. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Gerard held it and twisted the cold knob until he heard a soft ‘click’, trying to keep his eyes open as he shoved it back. 

What Gerard found inside was definitely not what he expected. He really didn’t expect anything, because he felt like a blind man, but what he was faced with was beyond any guesses or expectations he could have begun to think of. 

Inside the first room was nothing more than a normal bedroom setting. A bed, dresser, undecipherable posters, a desk, and so on. It looked vaguely familiar to Gerard, but his mind was too clouded with a million different things to actually concentrate on that subtle gnawing on his memory. Other than a large digital clock counting down his two hours on the far wall, the room seemed normal, and Gerard moved on. 

The following few rooms were nearly the same. Vaguely familiar looking bedrooms, large digital countdowns, and absolutely no luck. Gerard was frustrated and annoyed, wanting the entire nightmare to be over. He wanted to open his eyes and be back on the couch or in his bunk on the tour bus, waving it all aside as just another delusional creation of his overly caffeinated, sleep-deprived brain. 

Gerard knew deep down that this was all-too-real, however.

About halfway down the hallway, and something like ten doors opened with nothing of interest behind them, Gerard was about ready to scream. He wanted to yell at whoever was doing this to quit messing around and release them or he’d break his no violence and kick their ass for even attempting murder. It wouldn’t work, and probably only result in Gerard baking himself alive, so he reluctantly bit back his rage and started moving at a more rushed pace. 

It was almost at the end of the hall that Gerard’s ‘luck’ finally changed; and his stomach felt like it dropped from his body entirely. Rage and fear flooded his body, and he momentarily couldn’t bring himself to move for what felt like an eternity. When he could think mildly straight again, Gerard decided that when it was all over, he was going to hunt down the mysterious bastard and personally rip them limb from limb.

The room facing Gerard now was very different from those preceding it. There was no bed or dresser or posters or anything. The only piece of ‘furniture’ was a blood-stained metal table, almost surgical in appearance, in the center beneath a vastly bright light. On the floor were at least a hundred different dolls, the type children play with, all naked and dirty. Some were missing limbs, other had band-aids randomly stuck to them, and a few even had bandaging wraps. 

The thing that made Gerard sick was the fact that lying still on the metal table was Frank; the younger man’s eyes closed and chest barely moving. It was obvious the blood on the table was his, because it was all dried onto his skin in various places, and his clothes were ripped nearly to shreds. 

Gerard didn’t realize he wasn’t breathing until his lungs began to burn, forcing him to sharply inhale, detecting a bitter smell that sent chills through his entire body. He couldn’t bring himself to think about the source of the foul odor, and his eyes started to cloud with tears as it set in that it was _Frank_.

He was the one person that Gerard never had walls towards; the one person that could get almost anything out of Gerard, often by simply smiling. Frank was the only person that Gerard fully trusted (beyond Mikey, of course) with each and every one of his troubling secrets, because Frank never judged him. No matter how messed up or dark they were. 

Frank was the only person that Gerard let into his heart, because he knew that Frank would never intentionally do anything to hurt him. He was Gerard’s best friend, bandmate, and in a broad sense, his boyfriend. 

Suddenly, as though someone had physically pushed him, Gerard began to kick his way through the dolls and towards Frank; heart racing so quickly, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin. All that mattered at that moment was reaching Frank and making sure that, despite seeing the tiny movements of his chest, he was still alive.

It was ridiculously warm beneath the light, Gerard subconsciously noted, causing Frank’s body to sweat to try and compensate. When Gerard’s hand touched Frank’s arm, he nearly burned himself and had to withdraw it immediately. Gerard had seen Frank pretty sick -the guitarist attracted illness like flies to garbage, but never had Gerard seen him this bad. 

“Frank?” Gerard’s weak voice barely came out. “Frankie?” he whispered with desperation, bending down some over Frank and brushing his hair back. “Hey Frankie,” Gerard gave a tiny smile, “Wake up.” His hair fell down around his face, limiting his view of the room. “Please wake out.” The words came out with a begging tone. 

Getting no reply, Gerard held back tears and stood up, tucking his hair back, and continued to pet his boyfriend. After staying that way for a few moments, a small piece of paper caught Gerard’s attention. It was taped to the wall, his name written in a neat cursive across it. 

“I’ll be right back,” Gerard told Frank before walking around the table and towards the wall. He yanked the paper off, the tape taking some paint with it, and unfolded it to discover a message written inside. 

_You, Gerard, have helped thousands of people all around the world, and are highly regarded as an inspirational ‘role model’. People claim you have saved their lives, and without you, they wouldn’t be alive._

_On the table behind you lies one of my favorite dolls; raggedy Frankie. He’s sick – very sick – and doesn’t have much longer to live._

Gerard’s heart dropped to his stomach, which in turn nearly came out his mouth. 

_Some of our best doctors have tried to fix him, only to have made things worse._

_It’s up to you now, Gerard, to save poor Frankie’s life. You managed to figure out which incredibly toxic venom is coursing through his body, but you foolishly misplaced the antidote somewhere in this room._

Gerard’s heart raced now.

_Hurry up before your patient flat-lines.  
 **tick tock. tick tock.**_

Gerard stared at the note, reading it over hastily again before crumpling it into a ball with frustration and throwing it. He had no idea where any _antidote_ was, there were dolls _everywhere_ , but Gerard could tell that Frank’s time was quickly running out.

Rubbing his eyes with his palms, Gerard returned to Frank, getting hit almost instantly with the heat. He knew he had to get Frank away from the warmth before it did permanent damage, if it hadn’t already; so he grabbed onto the torn cloth and started tugging him sideways until he could get his arms beneath Frank’s shoulders enough to slide him from the table. 

Frank was pretty solid, making him heavier than he looked, and Gerard stumbled a little in his attempt to get the younger man onto the ground where the light was dimmer and therefore cooler. Gerard laid Frank down, kicking dolls out of the way to clear a space, sliding his hands into the holes of Frank’s shirt and yanking the cloth even farther apart to make larger holes for heat to escape. 

Seeing Frank’s beautiful tattoos all destroyed with cuts, stitches, bruises, and even square pieces of fabric that were sewn against his skin, broke Gerard’s heart more. Frank was so proud of each and every one of his tattoos – each was special and told a story – and he would be devastated when he woke up. 

Gerard had busied himself with trying to cool Frank off, mourning his tattoos, that he didn’t notice the slow flickering of Frank’s eyelids. It wasn’t until the man very weakly mumbled, “G’ard,” that Gerard even realized he was awake.

“Frankie;” Gerard breathed out relief, shuffling on his knees so that he was hovering over Frank’s face. “Hey babe,” he softly spoke, stroking Frank’s warm face. Frank blinked slowly at him; eyes never opening more than halfway. He looked weaker than Gerard had ever seen him, and it frightened him how little light was in Frank’s normally beaming eyes. 

“Don’t feel good,” Frank eventually got out, eyes closing entirely.

“I know,” Gerard answered quietly. “I’m going to make you feel better though, okay?” He continued stroking his boyfriend’s face; Frank leaning into the touch. It was probably because Gerard’s abnormally cold hands felt nice against his current burning skin. 

“’kay,” Frank said a few moments later; the delay of response alerting Gerard that Frank was losing consciousness.

“I need you to stay awake, okay?” Gerard feared that if Frank lost consciousness again, he wouldn’t get it back. “I know you want to sleep, but you can’t. Not yet.” 

Gerard waited for a reply, but when he got none, he got anxious and asked, “Frankie?” He brushed his hand along Frank’s face gently. “Frankie, you still awake?” 

Frank made a noise, something between a groan and a whine, relieving Gerard to a certain degree. “I have to go look for something, but I won’t leave the room.” Gerard pushed the man’s growing hair aside. “You have to stay awake. If you feel like you’re falling asleep, just talk to me.” A similar noise came from Frank, and Gerard figured that was the best he was going to get. He didn’t have the time to spare. 

As long as Frank was still breathing, and preferably conscious, he would be alright. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Gerard leaned down to press a soft kiss to Frank’s warm head, lingering for a moment, then forced himself away to stand up and begin searching for whatever was going to cure the other man. All he saw were dolls, though. And the likelihood of a bunch of plastic, broken and bandaged toys helping Frank seemed pretty low.

Taking a step, Gerard felt a doll beneath his foot and he bent down to grab it with his hand. It stared at him with painted, empty eyes; face dirty and hair half gone. “Fuckin’ thing,” he mumbled, throwing the doll at the wall towards the side to move on.

Upon colliding with the wall, the doll broke into pieces, falling to the floor a moment later. Something registered in Gerard’s brain as he watched the toy split, causing him to grab the next one and rip its head off himself. It made a ‘ _pop_ ’ noise, revealing an entirely hollow body large enough to store a variety of options.

Such as an antidote.

“Frankie,” Gerard spoke a little loudly, tossing the plastic aside to move on to yet another doll, “You still awake?” He held onto the doll’s body with one hand and wrapped the synthetic hair around his fingers of the other, pulling his arms apart until the toy gave and separated with another ‘ _pop_ ’. 

“Frank?” Gerard’s tone became a bit firmer, similar to a parent warning a child, while flipping the headless toy in his hand and shaking it a little to see if anything was inside. 

“Yeah;” Frank half sighed and half groaned a moment later. That was satisfactory enough for Gerard and he continued on a bit farther away into the ocean of dolls, making a path for himself and listening closely for any sounds indicating rattling of an object inside a doll. 

“Hurts…” he heard Frank whine a moment later and Gerard stopped to look, noting Frank had managed to turn himself onto his side, curled up some, clutching at his stomach. He frowned with worry because if Frank was complaining about his pain, then it was really bad. Normally he would just avoid doing things to cause him extra pain and busy himself with activities like absently strumming his guitar. 

“Think about something else,” Gerard offered, doing his best to keep himself from running back over to the man. Instead he quickened his pace in ripping apart the dolls and shaking their bodies in hope.

“Can’t,” Frank practically cried out. It was another huge sign to just how much pain he was in. 

Gerard’s chest tightened but he kept pressing on, dropping to his knees to save himself the constant strain of bending every few seconds; even more desperate to find the antidote now. “Think about going home,” Gerard said, trying to provide a distraction for him. “About sleeping in a warm bed instead of a cramped bunk. And…uh…think about all the warm showers you can take every day instead of hoping and hunting at venues.” Gerard knew what made Frank happy, of course -he’d be a really shitty best friend, and an even shittier boyfriend if he didn’t, and hoped it would be enough to help.

“Still hurts,” came the honestly pathetic reply.

“Just a little longer,” Gerard said, but it was more like a plea, because he knew Frank wasn’t going to hang on much longer if he was to the point of crying. He resorted to giving the plastic dolls a firm shake before tossing them aside to grab another. Maybe a fourth of the dolls had been beheaded, and Gerard was getting absolutely nowhere, making him anxious, nervous, and incredibly angry. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Gerard saw Frank curled even more on himself; face turned towards the floor, breathing fairly labored. Gerard bit his lip hard enough to tear the skin and cause it to bleed. 

“Please,” he could just barely hear Frank whimper, “make it stop…”

“Just hold on, Frankie,” Gerard replied, feeling tears come to his eyes. He frantically moved through the room, the fabric of his jeans tearing at his skin from the friction as he moved, so incredibly frustrated that ripping the dolls apart was almost therapeutic. He couldn’t lose Frank; he just couldn’t. Out of all the shit that Gerard had been through in his life, nothing terrified him more than his current situation. 

Either from paranoia or actual cause, the sound of steady ticking flooded Gerard’s ears; nearly singing, ‘tick-tock-tick-tock’ in what Gerard perceived as a cynically happy mocking tone. Like children chanting some sort of nonsense as they played in the schoolyard.

“Fuck!” Gerard half yelled after his hundredth or so failure; throwing the doll in his hand so hard at the wall nearest him that it practically exploded into a pile of plastic pieces. Gerard began simply grabbing the dolls and shaking them without bothering to dismantle them unless he heard some kind of noise. If he didn’t hear or feel anything in the body, he saw no point taking the time to actually pull it apart.

What seemed like hours later, when in reality it was no more than three, five minutes tops, Gerard got lucky and could hear an echoing rattle inside the doll in his trembling hands. He wasted no time ripping the head away, flipping the body to see an object fall from the hole to the ground before him. 

The relief Gerard felt had morphed quickly into fear as he looked at what the doll had been encasing. It was certainly the antidote, or at least it resembled what the movies and comics had always used, but Gerard was frozen by the fact that it was a _needle_. Syringe, to be exact. 

Belonephobia had been a problem of Gerard’s for as long as anyone could remember. The thought, the sight of a needle made him squirm and basically hyperventilate if it got bad enough. It’s why he despised hospitals so much, and why whenever Frank dragged him along when he wanted a new tattoo, Gerard would stand outside and smoke or _something_.

The syringe practically laughed up at Gerard, shining in the light cast down from the lamp overhead. Just looking at it made Gerard sweat, mentally battling himself to death over what to do. But when he looked back to his boyfriend, who no longer seemed to be moving at all, Gerard’s mind was made up. Without another moment’s hesitation, Gerard grabbed the syringe and jumped to his feet, racing to Frank and dropping back to his knees.

“Frankie,” he said, using his free hand to give a little shake to Frank’s shoulder. The movement caused Frank’s arm to slide from his body and lie limply on the floor. “Come on, Frankie.” Gerard’s heart was racing; so quickly that he could feel it and hear it echo around him.

Moving his hair back, Gerard could see a pool of blood on the ground which was dripping from Frank’s partially opened mouth; too much to have come from biting his lip or the inside of his mouth. “No,” Gerard choked out. “No, no, no, _no_.” He chanted in a panicked whisper.

He gave a little push to Frank’s shoulder to make him roll onto his back, using his teeth to remove the cap from the syringe then shoving it into the side of Frank’s bloodied and bruised stomach, using his thumb to push the plastic down until every drop of the substance in the tube was gone. Gerard threw the empty syringe as far from him as he could then pulled Frank half into his lap; using one arm to hold him close and the other to rub his shoulder.

“Come on, Frankie,” Gerard whispered, watching a little trail of blood grow from the corner of Frank’s mouth and run down his face. “You’re stronger than this,” he said, blinking back tears. The younger man remained motionless against him. “You can’t leave me. We were supposed to spend our whole long, fucked up lives together…”

Faintly, Gerard swore he heard laughter. A dry, pleased cackle. But he ignored it in his denial of accepting that Frank was actually gone. He hated himself for not being quicker. For even _thinking_ about not grabbing that syringe as soon as it fell out just because of his obsessive fear. If he had just managed to protect Frank from the beginning…

“I’m sorry,” Gerard eventually spoke; voice cracked. Heavy, warm tears started to slide down his cheeks, dripping onto the tattered material of Frank’s clothes. He knew that he still had to find the other three, he had maybe an hour and a half left to do so and save them from the same crude ending. But he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Not yet.

Someone upstairs, if you believe in such a thing, must have had sympathy for Gerard, or maybe they just weren’t ready for the overly hyper spirit of Frank Iero. Either way, Frank jerked a little, startling Gerard, and began choking. Gerard helped him sit up to try and ease it, releasing Frank when the younger man pulled away to crawl a few feet to the side where he threw up a deep reddish-black substance that Gerard really didn’t want to know what of. He watched Frank empty himself two, three times, before sitting back on his heels with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily and shaking.

Gerard used his own hands to quickly wipe away his tears then hesitantly called, “Frankie?” in a gentle voice, trying not to scare the man too much. For a moment Gerard thought Frank didn’t hear him, but eventually he turned his head and blinked slowly at Gerard with worn eyes. Gerard managed a weak smile, wiping at his eyes some more.

Frank stared at him almost as though he didn’t even know who he was, then with what appeared to Gerard as a tremendous amount of effort, he crawled back and collapsed half on top of him. Gerard could feel Frank’s pounding heart against his leg where Frank’s chest was pressing. Frank’s breathing was stressed and highly irregular, but he was alive, and that’s all Gerard could really focus on. 

“We have to go, Frankie,” Gerard said softly, rubbing harshly at Frank’s back to wake him up; noticing Frank was drifting off. 

Frank moved a fraction of an inch, muttering, “tired,” almost inaudibly. 

Sighing, Gerard answered, “I know,” moving his fingers through Frank’s matted hair. “But we can’t stay here. We have to find Mikey and Ray and Bob so we can go home to sleep.” The actuality of him sleeping any time soon, however, was very doubtful. Not to mention Frank needed serious medical help. 

“Let’s go,” he said, not wanting to waste more time. Frank whined in protest as Gerard pushed him from his lap, getting annoyed to sit up, and weakly glared at Gerard with half lidded eyes. Gerard stood all the way up, reaching down to assist Frank, ultimately pulling him all the way up. Frank was incredibly unsteady though, forcing Gerard to keep a tight clasp on his arm to prevent him from falling down.

“Gotta put some effort into this,” Gerard grunted some, trying not to topple over. Frank ignored him and remained leaning against him; smirking, if you looked close enough. Gerard rolled his eyes and looked around the room once more, heart skipping a beat as he thought about what else could be waiting in this place. 

He sighed, pulling as much of Frank’s weight against him as he could without falling, and started leading them towards the door. Frank dragged his feet more than he actually walked, making it difficult on Gerard’s part, yet managed to make it to the hallway without stopping in the end. 

As Gerard inhaled and shifted Frank’s weight one more time, he tried to block out the cynical cackle still ringing in his ears.


	3. Voodoo

**Chapter Three – VooDoo**

“Frank,” Gerard sighed, “I can’t carry you down the stairs. Neither of us would make it down in one piece.” 

Frank laid down, eyes still shut, and curled up a little while muttering, “Then just leave me.” And if it was anyone else, Gerard would have gotten really irritated and probably started yelling at them. But this was Frank, and Frank does this, so Gerard had more or less learned to deal with it rather calmly. For the most part.

“You know I can’t leave you.” Gerard rolled his eyes. “I can help you down them, I just can’t carry you.” Seriously. Gerard would no doubt fall if he tried; Frank coming down with him. “Lean on the railing and me.”

“Too tired,” the man answered. Gerard heavily sighed again.

“Frank, get up.” He got a bit firmer. 

Frank only made a small whining noise. 

“Frank,” Gerard tried again, “Get. Up.” 

“I can’t,” Frank whined into the floor. 

“Well you better try.” Gerard stated, his patience wearing thin. He didn’t have time for this. Literally. “Get your ass off the ground so we can find the others and just get the fuck out of this place already.” 

It took a moment, and there was visible effort behind the movement, but Frank reluctantly pushed up off the ground and leaned heavily against the wall; weakly scowling at Gerard, though it was more of a deformed pout. 

“Lazy,” Gerard lightly teased, offering his hand to the younger man to help support him as they started for the top of the stairs. He could feel Frank struggling to keep himself up, and Gerard did feel bad he had to make him struggle, but he would be no good to anyone with a broken neck. 

“Just hold onto the railing, Frankie,” Gerard said, moving himself down the first few steps with his arm stretched the distance between him and Frank. The younger man nodded and grabbed the rotting railing, grimacing some, and waited for further instruction. “Try not to fall,” Gerard said, semi-desperately, and used his free hand to grab the railing as well. 

Gerard descended the stairs backwards to watch Frank and make sure he was okay to be able to detect any sight of imbalance or sudden weakness to stop and let him rest a moment. Frank did rather well, though, moving forward as Gerard moved back, only stumbling a little one time [giving Gerard a heart attack in the process], but managing to catch himself before he fell. At least going down stairs would be a lot easier on Frank than if he had to go up. 

It took about six or seven minutes to get all the way down; the stairs creaking the entire time. About half way through they turned to face the other direction instead of a wall, and Gerard let Frank lean on him for a minute as he complained of getting dizzy. When they finally reached the bottom, Frank found his way back to the ground, Gerard frowning down at him. He had never seen anyone so weak before – especially not someone normally overflowing with energy and excitement. 

There were two halls Gerard could go down, and a door on the side of the stairs that clearly lead to a basement. He knew he didn’t want to go to the basement, not yet, so it was once again a matter of left or right. 

The light was a tad brighter, an Gerard picked up on exactly how pale Frank was. Even his tattoos, what remained of them, were now faded. Dark circles were appearing around Frank’s closed eyes – not quite the color of bruises, but sickening all the same – and his lips were getting a slight bluish tint. Gerard was no medical expert, but after accompanying Frank to some doctor and hospital and venue medic a few dozen times, he knew that it was all very, _very_ bad. 

“You ready?” Gerard asked, kneeling to the ground. He pulled Frank’s hair from his face, able to feel the decrease in temperature from the man’s skin from what it was earlier. He didn’t expect it to be over yet, but he didn’t think Frank would be this sick. Something was still slowly killing the guitarist, and it twisted Gerard’s stomach tightly.

Frank didn’t answer, only forced his eyes opened and shoved himself into a sitting position. One arm wrapped around his stomach and the other he used to get himself fully up off the ground. “Are you okay?” Gerard asked, though he knew the answer already. 

“Fuckin’ peachy,” Frank mumbled sarcastically. Gerard let himself smile a little because at least there was some part of the Frank he knew so well left unharmed in there. He helped Frank to his feet because he wasn’t really getting anywhere on his own. “This better be some fucked up nightmare.” Frank leaned against the wall and let his head drop back. 

“I wish it was,” Gerard replied with a sad expression. Yeah, he really wished it was too. “Does your stomach hurt?” 

Frank’s lips twisted up at the corner, giving him an almost sadistic smirk, answering, “My entire body feels like it’s on fire.” Gerard noticed how Frank’s breathing had become slightly labored again. “This…” Frank’s smirk faded as a couple of tears escaped his eyes; trailing swiftly down his cheeks. “It’s never been this bad before, Gee,” he whispered, sliding down the wall a bit so his knees were bent.

Gerard took Frank’s face into his hands, using his thumbs to brush away the tears then softly kissed him; pressing their foreheads together. “Just hold on as long as you can, Frankie. I’m going to get you help.” There was confidence in Gerard’s voice that he rarely ever actually felt despite how well he could present himself from years of practice. “Please try to hold on,” he quietly pleaded, almost bringing himself to the point of tears. 

Drawing back, Gerard asked, “Can you walk or -?” 

Frank wiped his eyes with his free hand and stood straight, not removing his other arm from his stomach. “I can walk,” he quietly replied. Gerard gave him an unsteady look, but Frank began going down one of the halls, so Gerard silently followed him; staying close to his side should he need the support. 

**=-=-=-=-=-=**

It was faint, and Gerard wasn’t sure if it was just his mind playing tricks, but about half way down the hall, he swore he heard faint calls coming from one of the rooms at the end. Frank was leaning primarily against the wall now, breathing almost a pant, but he refused to let Gerard help him. Gerard wanted to go to the room at the end quickly to see if there was someone there, or if he was just imagining it all, but he couldn’t leave Frank alone. Especially when the younger man had begun lightly shaking. 

The rooms on this floor were generally like the ones upstairs; though they weren’t as neat and recognizable. The wallpaper was falling down and the walls beneath crumbling. The carpets were stained and everything was covered in dust. Gerard even accidentally removed the handle from one of the doors. 

About five doors from the end, Frank stopped and told Gerard, “I can’t,” before sliding down the wall until his knees collided with the floor; both arms holding his stomach as he leaned forward until his face reached the floor as well. He was crying again, something that didn’t happen often, and Gerard’s heart skipped a beat or two when he saw a tiny trail of blood coming from Frank’s open mouth.

“It’s okay, Frankie,” Gerard said, getting on the floor. “You can stay here.” He stroked Frank’s face with the back of his hand. “You have to promise me that you’ll stay awake, though.” 

Frank only continued to cry. 

“Promise me,” Gerard repeated. He really had to get going. Frank’s time was decreasing at a very alarming pace. “Frankie, promise me.”

“I promise!” Frank choked, eyes squeezed shut with the tears forcing their way out. “I’ll…stay awake…”

“Good.” Gerard yanked off his hoodie and laid it over Frank, telling him, “I won’t be long so stay awake.” Frank moved onto his back, Gerard fixing the hoodie over him, not wanting to think about the amount of pain Frank must be in if it brought him to tears.

Gerard got up and rubbed his face, he couldn’t lose Frank. He forced himself away to go towards the door he heard the calls come from. There were two doors, one on either side, identical in appearance. However, the one to his left seemed more appealing to Gerard, so that’s the one he chose to open; finding himself faced with complete darkness other than what light stretched in from the hall. 

“Hello?” he called into the room, squinting at the black mass in the distance.

“Hello?” came a frantic answer. “Gerard? Is that you? Please tell me it’s you.” 

“Ray?” Gerard breathed relief. He recognized that voice anywhere. Even when it was hoarse and cracked. 

“Fuck.” Ray loudly exhaled and Gerard swallowed hard. Ray never swore. The only times he’d heard him swear was when he was really mad, which rarely happened, or when they were in some really situation. And even then, he tended to be calm about it. 

“Gerard, I can’t – I can’t move.” Ray’s voice was scared and desperate. It couldn’t be good. Gerard almost wanted to keep the room dark to save him whatever twisted situation his friend was in. “Gerard?” 

“I’m here,” Gerard reassured him. “I gotta find the light,” he said, starting to slide his hand around the inside wall in search of a switch. The wall felt rough and cold, sending a quick wave of chills down his arm, and Gerard tried higher then lower in the same general area until his hand collided with an upraised mass; his fingers coming over the switch seconds later. 

Gerard snapped the switch up, closing his eyes as the burst of light shocked him, then slowly opened them after. When his vision of the room cleared, Gerard’s gut clenched and he contemplated closing his eyes again. He didn’t even know what to make of what he was faced with. 

Fortunately, Ray was wearing a blind fold. 

“Why can’t I move?” Ray asked, sensing the light. 

“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Gerard frowned, studying the scene. “I’ll be right back,” he said after, turning to leave.

“What? Where are you going?” 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Gerard answered, leaving and jogging down the hall to Frank who was in the same position Gerard had left him in. “Frank?” he asked, kneeling down and placing the back of his hand against the side of Frank’s face which was only getting colder. Sweat had started accumulating in a thin sheet over all visible parts of his skin. “Frankie; you still awake?” Gerard asked almost fearfully. 

Frank gave a quiet whine-moan sort of noise, not moving. That was probably the best Gerard was going to get, it meant Frank was conscious and alive, so he took it. “I’m going to be at the end of the hall, okay?” He ran his fingers briefly through Frank’s hair. “I won’t be long, I promise.” Gerard pulled the hoodie up over Frank a little more; bending down to kiss his forehead.

When he stood up again, he fought off the gnawing feeling to stay with Frank, as though his body knew something that his mind didn’t. 

Gerard went back to where Ray was, closing the door behind him, not because he didn’t want to hear Frank potentially calling to him, but rather because he didn’t want Frank to hear anything from the room. There would, without a doubt, be screaming. 

“I’m back.” Gerard informed Ray, making his way towards the center of the room. 

“Gerard, what’s going on?” Ray asked. 

“I wish I knew,” Gerard muttered back. He stopped and looked again at Ray, studying to find an answer. What Ray was encased in, Gerard didn’t even know. The man was stood straight in the center with his arms and legs spread some, held against a wooden frame by what Gerard could just barely make out to be barbed wire. 

Surrounding Ray, on all sides, were large pins; sticking out both ways indicating they were moveable. Though if moved forward, they would penetrate Ray somewhere on his body. Gerard got the disturbing realization that the only way he was going to get Ray free was by doing exactly that. 

“Basically, we’ve been kidnapped. Someone really has it out for me.” Gerard spotted a table off to the side where a series of dolls were laid out, and a familiar note awaited him. “I have two hours – now a good hour, probably,” he hadn’t paid attention to the past couple of clocks, “to find everyone and get out of this house or we all get to suffocate on carbon monoxide.” He headed to the table. 

“So far,” he grabbed the note and flipped it open, “I’ve found Frank and you.”

“That’s…really fucked up…” Ray apprehensively spoke, Gerard shrugging and reading the note. 

_One of the most fascinating practices is voodooism. It’s the belief of putting someone through pain to punish them for unfavorable actions by creating a representative doll of them. Whatever is done to the doll is ideally felt by the person the doll was made after._

Gerard glanced at the dolls, all of which had a variety of pins protruding from different areas, and inwardly groaned. 

_One of the dolls before you is the key to your friends release.  
Can you spill his blood to save his life? Tick tock, tick tock._

Gerard crumpled the note and threw it behind him, picking up the dolls one-by-one to look them over. None of the pins appeared to be in vital areas, though none of them looked too pleasant either. All of the pins were above the waist; majorly in the abdominal and upper arm regions. 

The trick was that one of the dolls was a ‘key’ – Gerard’s only guess of that being that the pins in the dolls represented the pins Gerard would have to move on the device surrounding Ray to get him free. There were five dolls, however, with only one or two pins being the same on a few of them in a variety of ways. If he moved the wrong pin, he would cause unnecessary pain to his friend, but the only way he was going to get Ray free was by the process of elimination. 

“So,” Gerard gathered the dolls and climbed a few metal steps to the platform Ray was on, “You have a good tolerance for pain, right?” he asked, setting all the dolls but one on the ground near his feet.

“W-why?” The response was forced out, Gerard could tell, and he could practically hear Ray’s heart pounding. 

“Because if I’m going to get you free of whatever the fuck you’re in, it’s going to hurt,” Gerard replied. “It’s going to fucking hurt a lot. And there’s probably going to be a lot of blood.” He lined the doll up with the pins around Ray. “But we’re no strangers to blood, right?” Gerard attempted to lighten the mood in hopes it’d settle Ray even a fraction. 

“Take this thing off my face,” Ray told Gerard. 

“I don’t think you want to do that.” Gerard frowned.

“Gerard,” Ray’s voice was firmer – like when he was telling Frank to behave because they didn’t need a dead guitarist and a jailed drummer – “Take it off.” 

Hesitant, Gerard sighed, “Okay,” and walked around, carefully sliding his arms into the spaces around the pins and fumbling with the knot until the fabric loosened and fell around Ray’s neck.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Gerard heard Ray groan as he walked back to the front. “What’s around your neck?” Ray questioned when his eyes found Gerard.

“Not now,” Gerard pushed the topic aside. He didn’t have time to explain the details. For the most part, Gerard had actually forgotten about the shock collar. Apparently he hadn’t done anything wrong yet, and Frank was probably too out of it to notice Gerard wearing it. 

“So,” he took a deep breath, “I think the best way to do this is to get it done with, you know?” He turned the doll over in his hands. “I’ll try to be quick about it.”

“Yeah.” Ray’s voice was deflated and dreadful. “H-how’s Frank?”

Gerard didn’t look at Ray while replying, “Dying,” because it was the truth, and no matter how much he wanted to, Gerard couldn’t deny it. “Right now I want to get you out of here.” He got a little harsh. He didn’t mean to. “I still have to find Bob and Mikey and if you’re like this –“ he absently waved his hand, “-I can’t imagine their situations.” 

Ray nodded, traces of sympathy in his eyes. “Do it,” he said, taking a deep breath himself. “Just make it quick.”

Gerard stepped forward. “Do you want the-“

“No.” Ray shook his head. He shut his eyes instead, biting his lip. 

Gerard frowned but didn’t say anything, looking between the doll and Ray. “Alright.” He stepped to the left. “I’m going to try the one on your right, below your ribs,” he said, putting both hands around the bulb of the pin with the doll loose in his arm. It felt cold and smooth against Gerard’s palms, and he hated it.

“Ready?” Gerard didn’t wait for an answer as he started pushing the pin forward, getting a few inches when Ray cried out and Gerard stopped. The pin didn’t even reach him yet. “Ray?”

“My wrists,” he hissed and Gerard looked down. Blood was trailing down Ray’s palms; dripping off his fingers to the floor. The wire around his wrists must have tightened.

Well. Now Gerard knew what happened when he was wrong.

Gerard threw the doll and grabbed another. “Ready to move on?” Gerard asked when Ray’s breathing slowed and the blood seemed to stop.

“Yeah,” Ray hoarsely answered. 

“Right shoulder, back,” Gerard informed him, walkeing around to reach the pin. “I’ll go slow at first, and if I’m right, I’ll go faster.” Ray nodded, inhaling, and Gerard did just that. When Ray made no noise, he knew he was right, and closed his eyes as he shoved the pin quickly forward until he felt it click into place as Ray cried out. “I’m sorry,” Gerard weakly said, dark red blood running down Ray’s arm and back.

The top of the pin was buried in the man’s shoulder a good few inches, right below his collarbone. 

“I’m going to keep going.” He tried not to look at the gathering pool of blood at their feet, finding the next corresponding pin. “Uh,” he located it after a moment, “Left arm, middle-ish?” he guessed.

Ray’s breathing was rigid, tears rolling down his face, but Gerard couldn’t wait for him to settle to move on. He began pushing the next pin, stopping at Ray’s cries of, “Wrongwrong _wrong_ ,” as blood came from his wrists again. Gerard hated that it hurt his friend, but a part of him was grateful because the failure meant that they were a little closer to finding the right one. 

He looked at the remaining three dolls, matching up the pin that was already in Ray, and the pins that were wrong, leaving him with only two options and a bit of excitement. The two dolls varied only by one pin, so upon moving that pin, Gerard would have the right doll at last. 

“Just a little more.” Gerard told Ray, finding the intended pin. “This one-“

“Don’t.” Ray cut him off, voice strained and quiet. “Don’t tell me. Just do it.” Gerard frowned more, but overall, he understood. This way Ray wouldn’t have time to overthink it, or concentrate on the pain from knowing where to expect it. Surprising him wouldn’t make it hurt any less, but in some way, Gerard knew it would help.

The pin was right in front of Ray, between his stomach and chest. Gerard hated himself for putting Ray through the pain and suffering, though it wasn’t exactly his fault, and Gerard hesitated a moment before wrapping his hands around the cool bulb and pushing. When Ray didn’t object, Gerard bit his lip and used his weight to shove it forward until it too clicked. 

Ray’s cries filled the room, echoing against the walls, and Gerard quickly let go of the pin as it carried vibrations. 

Silently, Gerard threw the doll, leaving him with the right doll, and did his best to ignore the growing pool of blood on the ground. “Two more and you’re free,” Gerard tried to comfort the man, though the words held anything but comfort. Tw more pins, two more that were definitely needed to release him, meant two more puncture wounds and a lot more blood. His concern was growing into fear that Ray could pass out from blood loss – die, if Gerard couldn’t stop it – and there was no way Gerard could carry him.

Let alone Ray and Frank.

“Do it,” Ray chocked out, head falling back. 

Gerard went towards the next pin, just above Ray’s left hip, holding the floppy doll between his teeth by its arm and sliding the pin forward. He did his best to drown out the yells, they were dying in strength anyway, and kept pushing until he felt the click. 

Going directly to the final pin, Gerard barely noticed walking through the blood that was running off the platform in an area or two. The final pin was seated at Ray’s back, almost center, and gave Gerard the most concern. It wasn’t real close to Ray’s spine, but it was close enough to make Gerard worry, because damage to that could paralyze, even kill, Ray. His spine was actually protected by the frame he was bound against which traced his bones, leaving the majority of his backside still exposed. 

“Last one,” he said quietly, throwing the doll at the wall behind them and grabbed the pin, forcing it forward without stopping or slowing once until it clicked and he realized he was holding his breath the entire time. Gerard quickly let go and stepped back, brushing his hands on his pants anxiously. 

The metal frame that held all the pins gave a soft whine, all the pins being pulled back to their original positions then dropping down to face the floor; no longer posing a threat. Blood bubbled out a little faster without having anything there to slow it down, but it wasn’t as bad as Gerard had initially expected. 

Gerard slid into the small space where Ray was bound, getting close enough to have the man’s blood start to seep into his own clothing. “I’m going to get you free,” Gerard said. When he saw the exact details of how Ray was held, though, he groaned in frustration and rubbed his eyes because _fuck_ , this was a real pain in the ass. 

The barbed wire holding Ray’s wrists was threaded through the board and was twisted together in the back like a doll in a box. The only way to loosen it to get Ray’s wrists free was to untie the wire so it could be pulled back through, which meant Gerard would manually have to untwist its ends.

And it wasn’t like there were areas of just wire. The entire thing was jagged and sharp, so there was no way to avoid his hands from getting damaged. But if Ray could deal with it pulling into his flesh, Gerard could deal with a few scrapes on his fingers and palms. 

With a deep breath, Gerard grabbed hold of the ends as lightly as he could, already feeling the little spikes poke into him, and began to slowly untwist it as carefully as he could. He hissed lightly to himself with every sharp poke, bringing beads of blood from the areas where the tips pierced him, drowning out the _drip…drip…drip_ of Ray’s blood to the floor around his feet. 

It was taking a lot longer than Gerard wanted so against his better judgment, he grabbed a larger portion of the wire; biting his lip as the barbs cut into him now, making his hands sting and bleed as well. Gerard moved his hands in larger circular motions until the wire was completely undone, going quickly to the other side to repeat the process.

By the time Gerard managed to get both ties undone, his hands had thin but long slices all along the palms and fingers. He pushed as much of his own pain as possible out of his mind and rounded back to the front to use his fingers and tug at the wire until it loosened enough to allow Ray to slide his wrists out to get free. 

Ray staggered briefly, almost knocking into Gerard, but caught himself before he could actually take the smaller man out. “Sorry,” he muttered, hesitantly touching the gashes in his wrists. 

“We gotta find a way to stop the bleeding…” Gerard observed. The wounds on Ray’s body may not be gushing blood, but he was still losing it, and anyone who attended basic high school biology knew that you could only lose so much before passing out and eventually dying. 

Ray nodded, preoccupied with his wrists before a sudden look of genius dawned upon him. “My pocket,” he said hurriedly. Gerard looked at his friend in confusion, Ray expanding on his words with, “There’s a lighter in my pocket.” He knew the feeling of the metal object well – especially after being around people who smoked for so many years. “We can cauterize the wounds.” 

“That…” _is going to really hurt_ , Gerard wanted to say, but instead nodded slightly and finished, “Is probably the best chance.” 

“You have to get it.” Ray frowned, glancing momentarily down at Gerard’s cut-up hands. “My wrists-“

“It’s fine.” Gerard cut him off. He couldn’t imagine the pain Ray had to be feeling right now – the man incredibly well at hiding it. “Which pocket?” Ray briefly motioned to his left so Gerard stepped a little closer and grabbed the fabric with one hands, pulling it out to try and open the pocket before reaching his other hand in to retrieve the lighter. 

“Fuck; we gotta stop wearing such tight jeans,” Gerard said as he struggled to get far enough down to the object.

With a small laugh, Ray replied, “Any longer in there and you’re buying me dinner.” 

When Gerard managed to get his fingers around the lighter, he quickly removed his hand and bit back a cry of pain, looking it over and groaning. He knew these type of lighters. They were great, but they were dangerous. If you got the lighter fluid on you, it burned you. Bad. The kind of burn that keeps getting worse until it’s as though you touched a burning stove or pot. 

He didn’t say anything though and instead glanced around the room for a better place to attend to the wounds without remaining in the pool of blood. “Table?” he suggested when his eyes fell back onto the silver table where the dolls had been. 

Ray silently nodded and followed Gerard down the platform to the table, pulling himself up onto it as though he were at a doctor’s office. Gerard was just tall enough to be able to reach Ray’s shoulder comfortably with him sitting on the table and was thankful. 

“Gonna have to remove your shirt…” Gerard gently reminded, setting the lighter down just in case. He grabbed the back end of Ray’s shirt to try and help him ease the fabric up over his head, quietly wincing when the fabric stuck to the areas that were bleeding because they had to tug a bit to rip it off. 

Once the shirt was off, Gerard took a moment to assess the extent of the damage and the areas that actually needed to be cauterized to stop the bleeding. He didn’t want to hurt Ray anymore so if there was minimal bleeding or the wound wasn’t too big, he decided he wasn’t going to burn it. 

Essentially, that left Ray’s shoulder, abdomen and hip area. Or, the places the pins were. His wrists were bad, but not quite as bad as the other wounds. Ray took his shirt and ripped it into strips as though reading Gerard’s mind the moment he realized he would need some kind of wrapping, not saying a word to Gerard and just sort of waiting for him to take action. 

“So…it’s gonna burn…” Gerard broke their silence. He heard Ray softly laugh for a second, because that was a given, and took the lighter in his hand again. 

Gerard was a master of getting lighters to work and with a simple flick of his thumb over the little wheel, a flame erupted from the hole of the lighter. He watched it for a moment, dancing in small movements while staying primarily stationary, thinking about all the times he’s lit a cigarette or played with his lighter just to try and get his mind to other places. 

“Gerard.” Ray’s soft voice snapped Gerard back to reality and he nodded to himself, trying to keep his arm as steady as possible while moving the lighter towards the first of Ray’s wounds. He was no doctor, and it wasn’t the most sanitary of actions, but it was all they had and it would stop the blood flow. If even for long enough to get out and get him real help. 

Ray tensed when Gerard got close, flinching a bit when he got the lighter as close as he dared to get the job done without over burning his friend. They didn’t say a word to each other as Gerard did what he needed as quickly as possible, the lighter starting to burn him a little in the process. When he had gotten the blood to stop flowing, Gerard took the strips of Ray’s bloodied shirt and figured out the best way to get them wrapped over the wounds as a poor means of protection against infection or any more bleeding. 

“Thanks,” Ray offered with a small smile, assisting Gerard in the wrapping of his wounds where he could. They put small strips around his wrists, making it look like he was wearing make-shift cufflinks, before Ray slid from the table. 

Exhaling tiredly, Gerard looked over Ray one more time before turning his head to look at the door. “We gotta go,” he said quietly, body itching to get back to Frank. He left the lighter on the table and made his way to leave the room, Ray following somewhat stiffly behind him, flicking the light off on the disaster of a room behind them. It was something that Gerard knew he was never going to get out of his mind, not that he was ever really going to forget any of this, and headed down the hall. 

Frank hadn’t moved a muscle from when Gerard last left him. He was still on his back with the hoodie over him, mouth slightly agape and eyes closed. It didn’t look like his chest was moving much anymore either, but when Gerard knelt down to him and moved his hand to push his hair back again, he could faintly feel little huffs of air coming from the younger man which relieved him. 

“…Fuck…” Gerard heard Ray comment from behind him. “…Is he-?...” 

“We have to keep going,” Gerard quietly replied. He knew there was no way Frank was moving now. Gerard didn’t even know if Frank was conscious. But he didn’t have time to spare shaking or yelling at the man to find out. At the moment he was still alive, and that’s what mattered most, but Gerard wasn’t sure how long that was going to last.

And he couldn’t risk the lives of the others finding out. 

“Mikey and Bob are still here, and we have to find them and get out.” Gerard stared sadly at Frank, barely keeping the urge to cry at bay. He spent a second longer on the ground then stood up and moved his hair from his face, attempting to compose himself. “I haven’t been down the other hall yet…and there’s a door I’m sure leads to the basement too.” 

“What about Frank?” Ray asked, looking down at him. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“He can’t exactly follow us, either.” Gerard unintentionally snapped back at his friend. “We can come back for him. He isn’t going anywhere…” The words _ever again_ almost spilled from Gerard’s lips as well, but he caught them just in time to hold the shreds of hope he still maintained for the life of his boyfriend. 

Ray stared at Gerard, almost with disappointment or even shame, before he slowly lowered himself down and slid his arms beneath Frank’s limp body. “Ray, don’t-“

“We’re not leaving him,” Ray sternly answered as he pulled Frank into his arms. “I don’t care if we’re just going to the end of the hall or wherever else, but he deserves to be with us. Unconscious or not.” 

Ray used his knees to step himself back into a standing position, situating Frank in his arms and taking a deep breath to ease the pain Gerard could see shoot through his eyes from tugging at his fresh wounds. Frank was like a doll in his arms, flopping towards Ray with limbs dangling and overall unresponsive. 

“Where to?” Ray asked once he got a strong grasp on Frank so as not to drop him.

With a grateful smile towards his friend, Gerard turned towards the hall opposite of where they stood and started to walk.


	4. Bisque

**Chapter Four: Bisque**

After a few more empty rooms, Gerard was incredibly pissed off to the point that he wanted to punch the bastard’s head in – and he’s pretty anti-violence. They were nearing the end of the hall and Gerard was nearing the end of his allotted time to locate the remainder of his band. Frank was fading in and out of consciousness, opening his eyes and slowly blinking a few times in a lost way before drifting away again. And while he didn’t say anything, Gerard could see the pain and exhaustion written all over Ray’s face each time he glanced back to check up on them. 

With just under an hour to go and Bob and Mikey to find, Gerard was ready to start ripping the place apart with his hands. But he knew he was being watched and if he stepped out of line, he’d be shocked to death. What good would he be to the others then? 

So, begrudgingly, Gerard clenched his hands into fists, kept quiet and kept going. 

“Gerard,” Ray sighed from behind and Gerard spun around with a bit of a startle. It’d been a while since they had spoken that the mere sound of his friend’s voice made him jump. “I’m sorry, but I have to stop,” Ray frowned with the most sincere expression. “My arms are stiff, and-“

“It’s fine,” Gerard cut him off with a small shake of his head. He’d wondered how long it would be before Ray couldn’t take it anymore. It was only natural that in his condition he’d need rest eventually. “You don’t have to keep looking with me. We’re almost at the end of the hall anyway.” He ran the palm of his right hand along the side of his head. “I’m the one that has to do this anyway. You rest.”

“It’s just – Frank’s small, but the dude’s kind of heavy after a while.” Gerard gave a tiny smile. “I don’t want to leave him alone in the hall, either. Not when…” he trailed off and Gerard followed perfectly. 

“Sit and rest,” he told the other man. “I won’t be long. And I’ll be within yelling distance if you need me.” Ray’s eyes were regretful, but Gerard could tell that his body was purely grateful as he assisted him with lowering himself and Frank to the dirty ground. Ray sat against the wall, crossing his legs loosely and lying Frank down behind him with his head on Ray's leg. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Gerard instructed. “And regardless of what you might hear, or what happens, stay put.” He started walking backwards away from them to finish his search. “Worry about yourself and Frank first. Watch over him, _please_.” 

This time Ray gave his own little smile. “Have for years. This,” he waved a hand quickly, “isn’t going to change that.” Gerard nodded and spun around once more to check the handful of rooms remaining in the hallway before his only option would be to head in what he assumed was a basement. 

He continued to find nothing but abandoned furniture and rotting walls the further down the hall he moved until he came upon the very end. Gerard threw open the last door on the right to be faced with the sickening darkness that made his skin crawl with an eerie and fearful feeling. This was it, he knew it in his gut, and hesitated only a moment before attempting to locate the light switch and see who he’d found this time. 

At this point in the game, Gerard expected the worse. Though it didn’t stop him from shivering and adverting his eyes the moment the bright lights burst on. He had found Bob – suspended from the ceiling by a series of thick metal chains; one around each arm, one around his ankles, and one locked around his neck. Gerard closed the door to the room, remembering Ray was not too far away in the hall and he didn’t want him to come across this like he had. A little pool of fairly dried blood had collected beneath Bob which, from Gerard’s observations as he stepped into the room, looked like it had come from the man above him. 

Bob was covered in a decent amount of blood and bruises that, from Gerard’s readings in free time, he recognized as defensive wounds. Of course Bob would have fought their attacker. He was a scary motherfucker – when he wanted to be. 

As before, Gerard found a note on a small table sitting in front of four boxes sticking out from the wall. They were clear and, at closer observation, set back into the wall with each leading to a small red button. Each box’s opening was lined with a series of pointed blades that would be harmless when entering but would do a number when coming out. It was very much like a porcupine. 

The heavy and unpleasant feeling settled in Gerard’s stomach again because he could already feel the outcome of this ‘challenge’, but knew he couldn’t leave Bob hanging there to die. If they were going to die, they were going to die together. What’s a few cuts and bit of blood over brothers? 

Sighing, Gerard snatched the note and flipped it open, looking momentarily at the clock on the wall before reading. 42 minutes.

 _Bisque, or porcelain, dolls go back many years. Fragile and fair skinned, one of their most noticeable features is their stunning eyes._ Well, at least this kind of made sense to Gerard. In a disturbing way. But everyone knew and loved Bob’s bright blue eyes. They were hard to miss when you looked at the man. 

_Just like the bisque doll, the art of hanging has been around for a long time. Before you are a series of boxes containing red buttons. Those buttons are the key to your friend’s survival. You only have two chances to save him. Three wrong choices and he hangs._

_Think carefully, choose wisely, and decide if the pain is worth your friend’s life._

_Tick tock, tick tock._

In Gerard’s opinion, this was entirely unfair. Not that any of it really wasn’t . But Gerard was at a huge disadvantage this time because it was a life-or-death situation. Three fuck-ups and he’s murdered Bob, just like that. He had a 25% chance of getting the drummer out alive, and a 75% chance of killing him.

The only advantage Bob had over the other two was that physically, he had the least trauma. A couple bruises and cuts that might cause a few small scars after a couple of days. He also had the benefit of being out of it and unable to witness his own state of peril. For this Gerard was thankful as he stepped near the boxes, because silent-Bob meant no freaking out and no extra stress on Gerard.

Pain was inevitable, Gerard knew. Just looking at the boxes and thinking back to his experiences thus far, he knew it wasn’t as simple as it appeared. And while Gerard had smaller arms than other people, there was no escaping the blades around the edges. 

He took a deep breath and approached the box closest, cracking his knuckles before slowly pushing his arm into the small space. The metal that brushed against him sent shivers through his body, better than those the shock collar gave, and for a moment Gerard’s mind relaxed as he stretched his arm towards the red button. 

Gerard’s hand momentarily froze above the shiny button but he overcame himself and forced it down, grimacing when he heard the release of a chain behind him. The metal fell quickly to the ground with an echoing crash followed by that same cynically amused laughter that’d been haunting him the past hour and a half. 

He was startled though when a hot liquid started seeping into the container his arm was in – instantly steaming the glass sides and clouding his vision. He could feel the warmth on his skin and tried to tug his arm out but he met too much resistance as the bladed-border locked around him. Gerard continued to tug, desperate to get free, only managing to dislocate his shoulder with a loud popping sound that generated a yelp of pain from the man. 

It got worse when the container filled enough to leave Gerard’s arm nowhere else to go. He couldn’t help but cry out loudly as he was burned by what felt like wax from his elbow to fingertips until the sting was so sharp his entire arm went numb.

Once his arm was emerged in the fiery wax, the cuff immobilizing him loosened enough to allow Gerard to easily slide his arm out. The blades sliced cleanly through the quick-drying wax on the way out so that most of it was removed from his skin in the end. His arm was bright red and thrumming with pain – shoulder momentarily forgotten as he dropped down to his knees. 

Overhead, Bob dangled by the chains around his wrists and neck now with his body gently swaying from the drop of the chain still locked around his ankles. His moving body dragged the tip of the chain back and forth a few inches on the ground, generating a scraping noise barely audible over Gerard’s own soft sobs. 

“Gerard?” Ray’s hesitant voice came through the door. “What’s-“

“Don’t!” Gerard yelled out. “Don’t come in.”

“Gerard,” Gerard ignored him and the door opened anyway. “I heard-“ he stopped when his eyes came across what had been lurking behind the door Gerard had shut for good reason earlier.

“Get out,” Gerard practically whispered, using his unburned hand to wipe away tears. Ray continued to ignore him, going to Gerard once he was able to pull his eyes off Bob’s hanging form and getting on the ground beside him. 

“This is bad,” Ray quietly said, hand going towards Gerard’s arm but stopping before he made physical contact. Ray’s hand hovered along Gerard’s arm up towards his shoulder where he frowned more. “Your shoulder is…” he trailed off. “Um…I can set it back, but it’s going to hurt,” he said. “I mean, I know it hurt when it…” 

“You need to get out,” Gerard repeated. 

Instead of leaving though, Ray gently placed his hands on either side of Gerard’s shoulder and muttered, “Just-“ before putting a lot of pressure on the front and, with a jerk and shout from Gerard, forced the bone back to where it was supposed to be, relieving a deal of pressure and pain from Gerard. 

“I don’t like when my dolls are tampered with,” the voice overhead rang out, followed by Gerard’s body involuntarily jerking as a jolt from the collar sparked through his muscles, sending him into Ray. “There are rules for a reason, Gerard. You can’t just break them because you got a boo-boo.”

“What the fuck?” Ray caught Gerard, the other man’s face wound tight with his hands flying towards the collar. “I reset his shoulder and you shock him? It’s not like I was helping with _that_!” Ray threw one arm towards Bob.

“My game, my rules,” the voice answered simply. “And I don’t like mouthy dolls either, Mr. Toro.” Gerard jerked again as another shock was administered.

“Stop,” he croaked. “Please, just stop.” He was breathing rapidly and struggled to sit up, Ray guiding him until Gerard pulled away. “Leave, Ray. I’m fine.”

“But-“

“Leave!” Gerard all but shouted, throat raw and aching. It was like he was suffocating, on the verge of an anxiety attack, and he wanted it all over. If Ray was why he was getting shocked, well.

Ray stared dumbfounded but put his hands up and silently rose, walking away without so much as a glance back at Gerard, pulling the door behind him. 

“You’re sexy when you’re demanding,” the voice purred.

“Fuck you,” Gerard growled in response and instantly regretted it when his throat protested. “I’ve got a game to finish,” he mumbled, forcing his trembling body up onto wobbly legs.

“I’ll forgive this little situation and set the clock back a few minutes,” he was told. “I hope you don’t disappoint me.” And just like that, Gerard could tell he was alone again. 

Despite his instinct not to, Gerard stumbled back towards the boxes, injured arm held level with his waist where it was when in the box because it was the position of least pain. Three boxes remained, two chances to save Bob. 

Gerard tried to think logically and skipped the next box inline to end up at the third instead. He should have known the first would be wrong. It’s rarely an end box. Certainly not the first, and hardly the second. So Gerard was going to try the third. 

Gerard knew the outcome of his failure too. And though he didn’t want to get burned more, he also didn’t want to risk his other arm. With some resistance and lip bit tight in pain, Gerard eased his arm back into the enclosed space towards the next button. 

This time Gerard hardly blinked before letting his hand drop down. The metal of the opening locked around his arm and he heard another chain release, flying into the one already dangling, and closed his eyes. 

Fuck. Wrong again. 

As the wax started pouring in, Gerard buried his face in his arm, biting his own flesh and waiting for the cuff to release. The burn came all over again and Gerard whined into himself, having to lean against the hot box as his legs gave out. It seemed to last twice as long before the cuff was loosened and he could get free.

His arm looked even worse – skin not only red but splitting open in a bloody mess with blackened edges. It was disgusting and sickening and he knew it was the worst kind of burn to get. Gerard learned all about burns the same time they learned that having open flames around while playing was a bad idea. 

Gerard was tired. There were two boxes remaining and only one chance to keep Bob alive. He could hardly move his burned arm, the skin not only fried but a number of the nerves shot as well, forcing Gerard to use his other arm for his last box. 

He braced himself in anticipation, taking a deep breath and exhaling a sincere “Forgive me,” then slammed his hand down. His heart was racing and his body sweating, waiting for the pain. But instead of hearing the third chain freely swing into the others, Gerard heard louder clanking that, when he looked, revealed the two chains holding Bob up extending to lower him slowly to the ground. 

“Fuck,” Gerard sighed heavily. “God, fuck, thank you.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live with himself if he killed Bob. 

Carefully, Gerard got his arm free with only a few small cuts and made his way to Bob whose feet were still hovering an inch or two above the ground. He hung at a slanted angle that would make Gerard laugh if he still possessed the ability to do so and the situation wasn’t as hellish as it actually was. 

A small silver key hung by a frayed cord around Bob’s neck beneath the thick cuff. With one strong tug Gerard broke the cord and somehow managed to get his brain to convince his hand to stop shaking enough to get it into the small holes to release Bob. He fell with a pretty solid ‘thud’ to the ground, half on top of the chains, jolting awake a moment later. 

“What;” he grumbled, brow knit and sitting up.

“Here,” Gerard said weakly, handing over the small key. “Undo those,” he pointed to cuffs around Bob’s wrist and ankles, “and get up. We have to go.”

Bob accepted the key and looked at himself. “Um, Gerard, the fuck’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” the older man answered, already leaving. He didn’t have time to check if Bob was okay. He was alive, awake, and seemed coherent. Gerard was beyond pissed, more than exhausted, and in enough pain to rival a woman in labor. He still had to find Mikey and had roughly a half hour to do so. A half hour to not only find Mikey, but to find a way out of this house.

Letting his burned arm dangle limply by his side, Gerard headed towards Ray who had resumed his seat on the ground with Frank lying still beside him. “We have to go,” he said in passing, eyes flicking to Frank briefly. Gerard was certain he was going to die before they got out, if he was even still alive, but there was no way he was going to leave Frank to rot there either. 

“Gerard, stop, you-“

“Need to find my brother,” Gerard finished for Ray and kept walking. Bob emerged from his room and, rubbing his neck and wrists, approached Ray with a mix of confusion and shock. Ray just shook his head, motioning for Bob to assist him in moving Frank, the pair following after Gerard with Frank’s body held up between them. 

They stopped before the old door by the stairs, waiting in silence until Gerard kicked it open with impressive force mimicking that of dramatic cop shows. Another stairwell sat before them, leading down to a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling and swaying in front of another door at the bottom. “Stairwell to hell,” Gerard mumbled before grabbing the railing and starting down.

Gerard held hope, but not much, and he couldn’t afford to lose what he had.


End file.
